Lady Jane By Delphie Jones
I have laid and cried for you , Lady Jane as I stared at the intricate oil which crafts your skin and I wonder if you cried for Cleopatra , or the Holy Mary or Joan For we are all one in the same , fallen women , defiled , betrayed the history of womanhood is pain it lives in us Within your canvas , I grieve for you strokes of paint written in your blood , your tears cry the greatest sorrow transcending through the frame that we are infinitely bonded as pawns in power ’ s game Blinded by a ribbon , a veil married to your eyes to disguise a sin much greater than yours England ’ s execution of a child an axe ’ s pinch makes a fine bride for the reaper Lain on straw and pillowed floor , your sprawl to grasp the block , to try to do it right , but bent on bloody knees , a fragile prayer upon your lips a testament to the feminine urge that craves tenderness , starved to be understood For you are not so different Lady Jane , from your sister , Eve who fell for the serpent and its tongue , deceived beside Persephone , the temptation to taste the sweet fruit